Act III

SCENE I.—Lady Woodvil’s Lodgings.

Enter Harriet and Busy her woman.

Busy. Dear madam! Let me set that curl in order.

Har. Let me alone, I will shake ’em all out of order.

Busy. Will you never leave this wildness?

Har. Torment me not.

Busy. Look! there’s a knot falling off.

Har. Let it drop.

Busy. But one pin, dear madam.

Har. How do I daily suffer under thy officious fingers!

Busy. Ah, the difference that is between you and my Lady Dapper! How uneasy she is if the least thing be amiss about her!

Har. She is indeed most exact; nothing is ever wanting to make her ugliness remarkable.

Busy. Jeering people say so.

Har. Her powdering, painting, and her patching never fail in public to draw the tongues and eyes of all the men upon her.

Busy. She is indeed a little too pretending.

Har. That women should set up for beauty as much in spite of nature as some men have done for wit!

Busy. I hope, without offence, one may endeavour to make oneself agreeable.

Har. Not when ’tis impossible. Women then ought to be no more fond of dressing than fools should be talking Hoods and modesty, masks and silence, things that shadow and conceal: they should think of nothing else.

Busy. Jesu! madam, what will your mother think is become of you? For heaven’s sake, go in again.

Har. I won’t.

Busy. This is the extravagant’st thing that ever you did in your life, to leave her and a gentleman who is to be your husband.

Har. My husband! Hast thou so little wit to think I spoke what I meant when I overjoyed her in the country with a low curtsey and What you please, madam, I shall ever be obedient?

Busy. Nay, I know not, you have so many fetches.

Har. And this was one to get her up to London; nothing else, I assure thee.

Busy. Well, the man, in my mind, is a fine man.